Precious
by MagickCirclet
Summary: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and the twins find exactly what is 'precious' in their lives
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

Author's note: I know I promised "disturbed". . .never fear, it will come in good time. But, hey! In the words of Jar-Jar Binks, "Mesa back!"

Additional stories in this series:

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Abandon

Brave

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Precious: Something that is precious is valuable and important and should not be used without care

Elrohir closed and locked his door, with no intention of reopening it to anyone short of Eru himself. Preparing the room for a good, long, uninterrupted sulk, Elrohir threw open his window for air, losing the darkness to a bright, sunny day. Frowning at the weather, Elrohir closed the window once more. Stuffiness and darkness more befitted his mood. He had just thrown himself onto the bed and sighed deeply when there came a knock at the door.

"Kindly leave me be!" Elrohir called. "I have no need of annoying small brothers, thank you very much!"

When the response sounded, it was not the noise of sobs and scuffling feet that Elrohir expected by a similarly intoned call of, "What of wise elder brothers?"

Elrohir leapt from his bed and opened the door to admit Elladan, for it is truthfully said that misery loves company. Once his twin had entered Elrohir closed and locked the door once again, then flounced over to his bed and collapsed into a nest of covers. He sat up and faced Elladan who, unnoticed, had reached behind him and unlocked the door. "What advice of my wise brother?" Elrohir asked.

"The advice that you seek your annoying small brother and apologize to him," Elladan replied.

The younger twin narrowed his eyes angrily. "Never."

Elladan sighed in an exasperated fashion. "Why would you not apologize to him? You only had an argument and he is as hurt as you are."

"Probably off crying to Ada," Elrohir sneered.

"How can you say such horrible things?" Elladan demanded. "And, if you must know, Estel is currently mucking out horse stalls."

This did pique Elrohir's interest. "Why would he do that? He hates to muck out stalls."

Elladan sighed once more. "He has been told to muck out stalls until he can behave civilly; apparently he used certain words which Ada now wonders how he learned." Elrohir snickered. "It is a calm-down punishment, Elrohir, grunt labor."

"Good, then he is unhappy."

"Does it make you happy that he suffers?" Elladan asked, then thought better of this and was glad when Elrohir deemed the question not worthy of an answer. Elladan sat at the end of his brother's bed and looked ahead with eyes unseeing. He spoke his darker thoughts, the ones confined to his head that he thought only in the pitch blackness before falling asleep. 

"He is mortal. Every day he grows bigger and stronger, and someday not far from now he will no longer be our little brother at all. One day when he knows the truth of his heritage he will leave us, and then, another day in the not terribly distant future, he will leave us for ever. Sometimes I think I will push Estel from my mind and heart, for why bother with love when it is only to be lost? Then I see him in my mind, smiling and laughing in earlier days, I see him and I wonder, how could I stop loving this little boy? Instead I cherish him, every moment a gift. I know he will not be mine for ever."

Elladan turned to Elrohir. "That is why you should apologize, Elrohir. Not to be the bigger person or the more mature person, but because we will not have him for ever. He is no elf. If you lose a moment with him, it can not be made up.

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Precious memories or possessions are important because they remind you of people you like or events in your life

Aragorn hardly considered what he was doing until he heard the laughter from behind him. He turned. Legolas and Gimli covered their mouth and bit their cheeks to keep their faces straight. "What is so funny?" Aragorn asked, bewildered.

Legolas and Gimli shared a glance, then looked once again at the weathered old Ranger. For the most part his appearance did not differ from his usual looks, save that he had shed his coat and boots in the interest of sleep, but clutched in his hands was an object of much comedy to the duo. Aragorn looked at the stuffed toy and shrugged. "It has lasted for over eighty years."

"But why?" Legolas asked. "Surely you are too old to believe in monsters under the bed." He recalled a similar such toy of his own, sewn by his mother when he had been very small and frightened. Now that he had matured, Legolas needed no toy for comfort for he knew that the monsters were creatures of his own making.

Aragorn nodded. "Under the bed there are no monsters," he promised. "Those monsters were never there to begin with. I realize now that all monsters live here." He touched his forehead. Then with a curt nod he said, "May your sleeps be restful." He turned and half-fell into the pile of bedding; in moments he was asleep.

The Elf and the Dwarf once again glanced at each other. How could he do that? "That hardly answered anything," Gimli grumbled.

"Perhaps, yet now I do think I recall," Legolas said. "When Aragorn was small his brother gave him that toy and promised it would scare away the darkness, it would protect him. He named it after the twins, though the proper name given the bear has slipped my mind. For Aragorn to hold the toy is for him to remember all the happiness of his childhood, and also to recall his brothers. He feels young and safe."

Gimli scrutinized Legolas through slits of eyes. "You ought to watch what you put in your pipe," the Dwarf muttered, then curled up to sleep. Legolas laughed silently, seeing the way his Dwarven friend held onto his axe in sleep as the Man held his toy. Resignedly, the Elf laid himself down to sleep, chewing thoughtfully at the end of his braids.

*****

To be continued


	2. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

Author's note: This is movieverse, not bookverse

*****

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Used in order to describe someone or something that is small and pretty

Aragorn could not sleep. When he closed his eyes, images of battle danced before him. In the few moments that he managed to banish these, the thoughts that filtered into his head were far worse; Arwen, and how he would miss her, the love he would always bear for her; Elrond, the very same who had raised him and now saw him as an enemy. If battle drove him not to his grave, guilt surely would finish the job!

"Oh, what's the point?" he asked himself. Somewhat annoyed and rather tired, Aragorn stood and stretched out his muscles, cracking as many bones as he knew how with as little noise as possible. Taking cares not to trod on anyone, he made his way to the door.

"Strider?" a sleepy voice asked as he passed.

The Ranger turned. "Go back to sleep, Peregrin."

"I can't sleep," Pippin answered. "Where are you going?"

Aragorn did not know. "I am going outside. Would you like to come and look at the stars?"

Pippin shook his head. "Legolas is out there," he said. "Did you know?"

"No. Have you been out to see him?"

"No, but I have been watching the door for a while. Why aren't you sleeping?" Pippin asked.

"No reason. Why aren't you?"

"I keep thinking about it. . .you know, the ball that I picked up outside Isengard. Why wouldn't Gandalf let me see it?"

"Pippin, that is a Palantir. The dark forces use them, but long ago these stones were used by powers of good to communicate over great distances." Seeing the question form itself in Pippin's mind, Aragorn continued, "Elendil brought them to this land, long ago, and many of them have been lost."

Pippin never meant any harm; he could not help his curiosity. "How many were there?"

"Seven. Now take what rest you can."

The hobbit sighed and moved to lie down again, though he doubted he'd sleep. "Strider? Why are you carrying a blanket?" Pippin asked.

Aragorn looked at his hands. Indeed he did have a blanket with him. "I don't know," he answered. Then at last he stepped out into the corridor. It had been his meaning to go straight out and have a look at the stars; perhaps Eärendil might be visible this night, his father of old. But through the slightly open door to the Great Hall he heard a noise, and was inclined to investigate. The source of this sound caused him to stop for a moment and smile.

Lady Éowyn had fallen asleep on a wooden bench, apparently not quite finished with some task. In her sleep she looked young, perhaps only eleven or twelve years, her face relaxed and just about smiling. So this was the Lady of Rohan in her true form, as Aragorn had suspected: a girl, nothing more.

At least there was a use for the blanket. Aragorn awkwardly covered Éowyn, then paused. Even curled around herself she seemed at peace. "Sleep well, daughter of Rohan. Who may say what battles tomorrow will bring you?"

She woke just as he left, in time to see a shadowy figure disappear out of the room and to notice a blanket covering her. Who…? She did not cry out, but closed her eyes again.

Aragorn had known many children in his days, but that was the first incident in which any child, barring his own, stayed within his heart for quite such a time.

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THE END


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